The First One
by hopelessromantic1470
Summary: 'She wondered if there had been anyone else in Galbatorix's court whom he had cared for, but she decided it would be a dangerous topic to broach' Explores Murtagh's life pre Inheritance and possibly after... Because there are people he would risk his life for


**AN/ Hey! So this is my first bit of writing in a long time, school kind of sucks all time from your life, and this is my attempt at clawing that back. So I re read Inheritance, felt very nostalgic, and wrote this- I hope you like it!**

Adrenaline rushed through him as the obstacles lined up. Three men. Tall, muscled, none wearing armour, none carrying weapons. They didn't need them. Murtagh surveyed them all with a calm indifference, assessing each one in turn. Target one: stared him straight in the eyes, open stance, hands dangling by his sides. Arrogant. Target two: Didn't meet his gaze, leant slightly on his left foot, head tilted in the same direction. Nonchalant. They were increasing in level, Murtagh knew, and the man's supposed apathy only indicated a higher skill set. Target three: smaller than the others in every way. He was the magic user.

Murtagh smiled. He glanced up to the wooden gallery set into the harsh stone where the King was seated alone, having taken an interest in his training since last year. Galbatorix made no reply to the look, simply resting one hand on the end of his chair and looking instead towards the door at the end of the hallway, a slight frown on his face. Murtagh wondered why, if it was going to become a part of his test, a clue of some sorts towards how he should approach the challenge. _If he__'__d wanted me to know I would know. This is not how you are tested. Focus. _The men remained in the stances Murtagh had first observed, and he found himself unwilling to let them linger further.

Clenching and releasing his fingers quickly in a series of quick movements, Murtagh took one step forward, knowing it would spring the first man into action. He kept his body light, loose as the man swung right, left, focussing on fast, brute force. The third hit never came close as Murtagh ducked the man's arm smoothly, catching his wrist as he did so and twisting the limb sharply upwards, forcing the man to kneel down. Now looking at his next opponent, he shot a sharp elbow to the man's head and moved on without thinking to his next sequence. This one was faster, quicker, his movements more graceful, and so Murtagh circled him, maintaining his distance to entice the man towards him. Not working. The third man did not move from his place as the pair circled one another, working around him, Murtagh knowing he might change position at any moment, keeping one segment of thought on his opponent and one on his next. Two steps back, bought time, note in weaknesses. Apathy was the instinct he'd observed. Apathy to hide better skills, but not arrogant. Just more measured, more considered. Expecting a clever attack. Murtagh imagined the corners of his mouth turning up into a smirk as he struck, straight on at the man with not so much as a change in breathing. The man slumped to the floor, his expression torn between surprise and annoyance slacking into blankness.

SMACK. Blood built up in Murtagh's mouth as the force of all three men seemed to slam into his body, knocking him straight onto the uneven flagstones of the training room. He didn't have time to counter attack before the invisible ropes wrapped around him, clenching his flesh tighter, forcing his shout of pain inside of him as his mouth was held shut against his will, the magic enveloping him, constricting him. The room dimmed somewhat as Murtagh fought for breath that he knew was beyond him now. He had failed. He waited for the pressure to lessen, for Galbatorix to step in. Nothing. Fifteen seconds had passed, and his lungs burned inside of him, fire that crept up his throat, cut off feeling from his arms, his legs, clawed at his ribs. _Why is he not stopping him?_ He thought of the glance towards the door, wondered if someone was meant to save him. If the glance had meant anything at all, a clue, a trick. He could not even turn his head to meet the view of his assailant.

Then came a new pressure. Probing, powerful, but light. Murtagh sensed no malice, but raced to throw up barriers towards it as his mind struggled against it, vulnerable. It was too late. he was not practised enough. He wondered if the King would let him go now, or if this was a new failure he would endure first. He didn't think his lungs could hold out much longer.

_What's stopping you? _The pressure asked. You, he thought, unbidden, sarcastically, resentfully, angrily. _Why? You don't have much time now._ What should he make of that? He had no magic with which to fight back, this he knew. If pressure was designed to induce magic it clearly wasn't working with him. The touch to his mind suddenly receded, as if disappointed, and as Murtagh's eyes were about to shut the hold on him finally abated. His gasp for air was momentous, greedy, and he let his body fall onto his back as his chest heaved form the effort of replacing what it had lost. Dimly, he felt the King's anger, and knew that he was no longer in the gallery, but waiting for him to compose himself so the real lesson could begin. He wanted a few more seconds, but pushed it aside, swinging his head to where he sensed them standing.

He waited for his eyes to focus, sure he was still being tricked, but the image didn't change, despite his blink. The king. A girl, about Murtagh's age, fifteen, sixteen at most, standing to his side. Dark hair, slim build, jet black eyes, and a strange expression on her face that Murtagh tried to place. Guilt. He stood up and waited for the assessment.

'You did not panic, that was good,' the King's smooth voice glided over them, Murtagh trying to focus his gaze on him and not the girl. 'Your first two assailants were dealt with effectively, also good.' A pause ensued, as if Galbatorix was moderating his words, taking into account the new information Murtagh had been given and should be receiving. Instinctively, he knew it was his turn to speak.

'She has been the third opponent this whole time,' Murtagh phrased it as a statement, hoping it would hit the mark. Galbatorix nodded in assent for him to continue. 'An illusion. The hold she keeps me in is designed to either produce magic, or a quick enough response to prevent it's occurrence.' Murtagh stopped, and didn't understand why. He had been about to mention the voice, her voice, in his mind, but Galbatorix had nodded again, and he realised a new piece of information. The King had not sanctioned that contact. With the nod, Murtagh changed his gaze to the girl, who met his look and almost imperceptibly, inclined her head down. He had done the right thing. There would be a next time. He was dismissed.

He expected her to leave with the King, but she did not, instead joining his walk to the exit. He didn't comment until they reached the outer passage, until he knew if anyone was listening they wouldn't care, and it was not a part of his test.

'You tried to help me,' the statement came from his lips, and he didn't stop walking, the new pair moving at a brisk pace down the corridor. He glanced sideways at her, and felt confused as she saw her smile, eyebrows raised. 'Something wrong?'

'You didn't ask who I was first,' She answered, her voice clear, fairly low for a girl, and almost mocking, but he sensed no malice.

'That's what interests you? Not the risk you took? Who I think you are?' Murtagh's frustration had crept into his voice the further they got from the training room, and he didn't think to hide it from her.

'It wasn't much of a risk. And it didn't pay off. Though if you want to know why I was trying to help, then I will say that it was an intervention designed to make you think,'

'What kind of an answer is that?' Murtagh snorted, 'So your little message was all part of improving my technique is that right? That's why the King didn't know about it?'

'It's in my interests to improve you,' She smiled again, an increasingly maddening habit of hers, and he'd known her less than ten minutes.

'So you contacted me, as a risk,' He added pointedly, 'Because you wanted to _improve_ me? Heartfelt of you.' He let the question hang in the air as they reached the corridor's end.

'If that's your phrasing, then yes, I suppose I did. I won't again.' Her eyes lit up slightly, 'You'll know who I am next time, he'll want to see if you guess first though, that's how he'll begin.'

'So tell me now and save me some effort,' Murtagh raised his own eyebrows, crossing his arms and leaning backwards into the wall. He expected the maddening smile, but it didn't come.

'If you want to know who I am, we should start with names,' her tone was serious, and unease surrounded Murtagh at where the conversation was turning. She couldn't possibly be talking about true names. He looked at her again, properly, and knew that she knew he had guessed.

'You are Murtagh. I am Marin.'

The questions would come later.

**Heheheheh well I hope you enjoyed that ;) This is part one of a three piece I'd seen in my head but I actually think I might just make this longer… we'll see how this goes XD **


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